Heat And Struggle
by Shinobi-dono
Summary: Ashirogi Muto has faced other mangaka, the pressure of trying to come up with an interesting manga, and being separated, but can they take the heat?


**Bakuman – Heat and Struggle**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bakuman.**

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A heat wave filled the studio, enhanced by the closed window's glass. Only the breeze offered by a small fan helped the inhabitants in any way, but even so, Mashiro, or 'Saiko' as he was called, Takagi, or 'Shujin' as he was called, and Miyoshi, Takagi's girlfriend, all sat within the studio filled with copies of Jump, sheets of paper filled with drawings of all sorts and pens and pencils, all drenched with sweat as they lay about in the hot weather. Takagi sat at a desk near Mashiro's, leaning back in his chair with his jacket off, leaving him in only his white shirt, a pen barely clutched in his hand. He was probably the worst off, the heat of the sun too great for him to even think of anything other than finding something cold.

Miyoshi, meanwhile, was not doing much better, lying on a couch in the studio, likewise having taken off some of her clothing in an effort to get colder, and she barely had enough strength to hold onto the ice pack she had managed to secure for herself, said ice pack resting on her forehead. It was refreshing, but even so, the heat was almost unbearable today.

Finally, of course, was the dark-haired artist of the Mangaka duo, Mashiro, who, despite the intense heat, continued on with his drawings, currently halfway through toning the twelfth page of their latest manuscript. Despite this however, he seemed to only be doing his work through repeating a mantra to himself – "It's for Azuki, it's for Azuki". Takagi and Miyoshi, after failing to grab his attention after the twelfth time, had agreed he had definitely gone mad from the heat. Not surprising, given he was the one closest to the window, and the one furthest from the electric fan. It was a wonder he hadn't fallen face first onto his desk yet.

"Saiko…" Takagi attempted again to get his friend's attention, but it seemed he had failed yet again when he had heard no reply from the teen. "Ugh… Miyoshi, can I have the ice pack…? Pleeeeeease?" he asked, but a groan from the woman told him that she was not willing to give him it any time soon in this heat. The blonde sighed as he took off his glasses, putting them down on the desk for a moment with what little strength he had. "You're a selfish demoness, Miyoshi…".

In response, he got an annoyed grunt, a sign that the moment she got her strength back, she would kick him. And given how strong she was, Takagi was dreading it with what little of his brain was able to comprehend the situation. His eyes looked back over to Mashiro for a moment, who was still busy with his artwork. How he could keep going like this was something Takagi couldn't comprehend. Looking back to the fan, he was grateful Mashiro's uncle was smart enough to keep one to use, although, in a second, he would be cursing the name 'Mashiro Nobuhiro'. The pen name 'Kawaguchi Taro' thought remained un-cursed. Either way though, there was now a problem: The electric fan was no longer working.

As if on cue, Mashiro had fallen face first onto his desk, the heat finally getting to him, and Takagi groaned. This was a horrible, horrible situation. No wait, it was worse than that. It was as if he had stepped into the Blazing Hell of Impel Down. With another groan, knowing he couldn't just lie there all day in the sun, he stood up weakly and walked over, past Miyoshi, towards the kitchen. Surely there was something there, right? Opening the fridge door however, he was disappointed to find no chilled drinks of any sort, whether it be water or cola, within. Another groan. It seemed as if Lord Kira himself was torturing him with his Death Note.

Stopping himself before he could give up or make any more cultural references, he reached a lone hand into his pocket, feeling around to find some spare change, and he sighed in a sort of relief. All he had to do was make it to the nearby store! Then, finally, he could have something to drink to cool him down! So, with confidence renewed, he began to make his way over to the door, a hand gripping the doorknob before turning it, and walking through the now open door before closing it behind him. He walked on, making his way over to the stairs, and began to stumble down, the heat hampering his process. How hot was it? Sweat poured down his face, and he could swear he was going to pass out any minute. But still, he couldn't give up! He was going to make a manga, after all! For Kaya! He couldn't give up now! Managing to make it to the bottom of the stairs somehow, he looked ahead and, to his delight, there it was: A vending machine! A Dr. Pepper vending machine no less! With a renewed hope, he stumbled on, getting closer and closer before eventually reaching it, his body falling against it and using it as a balance as he hugged it, as if it were a real being that had saved him.

"Yes! Oh god yes! Now, to get… A…" stepping back to look at the vending machine, a horrified surprise crept over his face. Dropping to his knees, his jaw likewise dropped, as if unable to take the blow. It had been too much, fate was too cruel: It was out of order.

With no strength left, he fell to the ground, passed out from the heat.

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Back in the apartment, Mashiro pulled his head up, an unbearable heat weighing down upon his being. He could feel sweat drip down his face, he could feel his throat screaming for a drop of water, he could feel his body yelling at him for being an idiot, not moving away from his desk to work on the drawings. Looking at his hand, he could see that the pen was practically stuck to his sweaty palms. Looking over towards the couch, he could see Miyoshi lying there on the couch, unable to take the heat either. Although, it would appear Takagi had disappeared. To where, Mashiro wasn't sure, but he had more important things to worry about. Like the manga! He needed to get back to it, fast!

However, some small voice in his mind seemed to argue with that idea, telling him that he should try to get out of the heat instead. It was as if, within his mind, his common sense and his sense of duty were arguing, slowly tearing his mind apart. Draw, or move? He had to draw! He had to keep working hard! If he didn't, he'd never get serialized! But… This scorching heat, surely he should first get out of the heat, and then move onto drawing? His mind was begging him for an answer, hoping it was to stop drawing for a minute and move out of the heat. All of a sudden, it felt extremely hot, sweat pouring down his face in rivers. Was it really this hot? Was it really this horrible? He groaned, he had to move fast. He had to get out of the heat, to where it was cooler!

But all of a sudden, he stopped, looking ahead. Everything had suddenly become wavy, the stacks of papers, the desks, the couches, everything had suddenly become wavy. Moving back and forth, he wondered if this was some sort of trick. He panicked – Was he hallucinating? Was the heat really getting to him? Oh no, he shouldn't have stayed here for so long. He should have gotten away from the window! The heat was taking over his mind, and now he was going to pay the price for not moving to the shade! Why hadn't he moved? Why hadn't he closed the curtains?! Now that he thought about it, that probably would have been a good idea. But still! Everything was wavy now! He needed to act, fast.

Finally listening to his common sense, the young male moved, attempting to stand. At first, that plan hadn't worked, yet quickly he got his hands onto the desk, and used his arms to push himself up off of his seat. Good! He was almost there! Feeling was slow to return to his legs, but he was quick to move them and plant them firmly on the ground as he began to walk, taking small steps at a time. Almost there! He just had to get around the desk! Taking another step, he had managed to get around the side of the desk, and was almost in the shade. True, it was still hot, but compared to the window, it was much cooler! He was so close! So-

There was a thud.

Sadly, it would appear that the second half of Ashirogi Muto had been defeated by the heatwave.

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With a yawn, the young teenaged girl awoke, sitting up on the couch, rubbing her eyes. Once she pulled them away, she had noticed two things – One, Takagi was no longer in the studio, and two, Mashiro was lying on the ground, red as Mars itself. Blinking, she wondered how long she had been asleep. Last she remembered, Takagi had called her a demoness or something after she refused to hand him the ice-pack (Which had fallen into her lap once she sat up), and then she had fallen over, tired. Yawning again, she stood up, dragging her feet slightly as she walked slowly towards the kitchen. Luckily, with the ice pack, she had managed to stay cool enough not to be knocked out by the sheer heat like Mashiro had. Arriving in front of a cupboard next to the fridge, she opened it and reached in, retrieving from the cupboard a two-litre bottle of cola. With a small chuckle, she spoke to herself.

"To think they didn't realize this was in the cupboard".

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**Shinobi-dono: Well, hope you enjoyed. It's my first time writing about Bakuman, although I think I managed to get everything right. Wasn't sure what to have Miyoshi say at the end, so yeah, sorry if the ending isn't as good as one might hope.**


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